My Muse Whispers

She whispers to me

Not angry not insistent.

Persistant lips brush my right ear

Waiting for thoughts to reach flood


When the levee breaks

Water surges from dark corners of mind

In a language I could understand

In a metaphor I own


After a day in the sun in the press

Thrilling to the din of achievement

Where are you when lights go down

Friends asleep bottles dry?


Does she mock your solitude

Or give her breast for your restless head?


Mike Hill